"That's a 'no' then, is it?"
"Yes it's a no, or yes we can have—"
"Yes it's a no." White gave te lad a hard stare. "Best you be getting started."
"Yes sir." He picked up his case and went into the hall. "Have you seen all these weapons, sir?"
White stood in the doorway. "You can leave those be. There wasn't a mark on the body so none of them will be the instrument of death. Besides, I was told that every one of them was used in one fight or another, so you can bet there would be DNA all over them."
"Not that we'd have any luck matching it. Some of these are hundreds of years old." He pointed to a heavy spiked Morningstar. "Look at that one. It's got to be fourteenth century. I doubt I could even lift it."
"Nor could I." White clapped him on the shoulder. "But do you know what you could lift?"
"No sir." he stared up at the array of weapons. "What?"
"Your fingerprint kit. Now get moving."
White watched him head sullenly up the stairs and returned to the kitchen where he was pleased to find Detective-sergeant Peters contemplating the alleged crime scene while eating a sandwich. "About time you showed up. Where did you get the sandwich and where's mine?"
"It was on a plate in the fridge sir. Didn't look as if anyone wanted it.."
"What have I told you about taking food from crime scenes?"
"Finders keepers, sir. I was hungry. Besides, you've kicked them out while we investigate. It would have gone off long before we cleared the scene and my mam always said it was criminal to waste food."
"Ecologically and economically unsound, perhaps, but not criminal."
"Do you want half?"
"Aye, all right."